I take a deep breath
but I felt a pang on my chest
and I couldn't breathe
as if the world is suffocating me
the darkness is everywhere
I have nowhere to hide
I feel the hopelessness overtake my body
and all I can do is watch everything fall apart

you are a ray of light
in a world bathed in shadow
the double rainbow
of luminescent colour
as the moments of memory
fade into distant shallows.

you are the uncoiled mind
the evaporation of tears
the shades of opulent grey
and the world I leave behind.

still.
bent.
but not broken

the torments of youth
of love lost
and the quickening
of years
left to ponder
the unspoken.

We drove by moonlight last night.
The dirt road was our bright future.
I stared into my eyes through yours
And felt your lips like wind upon my neck.

We stumbled upon a natural pool bound by trees.
Ripples of concord churned water the color of innocence.
We looked upon one another, shameless as devotion itself
And as we swam, our imperfections dissolved and drowned

The crisp cool air beautifully contrasted
The heated humming of our hearts
The great space between us fell apart
And we knew more of love than Aphrodite in all her days

I held you, and you grabbed my hand
The stillness moved us and in that moment,
As we succumbed to sleep, our silence spoke over all words,
which could never truly epitomize our love.

And when we woke up we were two thousand miles apart,
As I drove down the dirt road I saw last night
The sun burned my neck. The pool where we swam
was as long gone as my opportunity to tell you how I feel.

I'm snoozing my best in the morning
Along about sun up,
When I hear someone a-callin'
Wake up, it's time to get up,
I lay there stretching and yawning
So nice to stay in bed,
I see the Sun is shining
Over the back woodshed,
Crawling from under the covers
Cheeks so nice and cool,
When the Sun gets over the chickenhouse
It's time to go to school,
Then sometimes
After I am up out of bed,
The moon comes over
The same woodshed,
If I'm still
And quiet as a mouse,
I'm asleep before it reaches
The old tinhouse.

August 2, 1963

i used to cradle her bleach-cracked hands in mine
and decode the stardust resting within her fingerprints
     up until the day that i lost touch with the art of reading braille
     and she stopped slinging tall-tales for me to fetch
and rest the plot-twist at her feet

often in the post-script
i'd find my train of thought highjacked by the sunlight illuminating the rainbow of earth-tones ablaze
in her frizz-ridden curls
as if she'd been washing her hair with the damaged case of beer
she'd gotten for half-price at liqour depot
     she never did quit drinking
          but neither did i

at least we tried

though sometimes
in the middle of the night when nothing was alright
and we'd barely survived another fight
her face would catch my glance
cast aglow by a flood of lava-lamp light
    
     the sea of freckles resting at the crest of her cheeks
     rose lips perma-pursed in half tilt
     her resting heart-rate so high that i could almost see it
          pirouetting within her chest

it was then that i'd love her best
     amidst the ruins of who we were
     just moments before

I tell myself that one day,
I will write a book.

In hopes of inspiring someone,
Maybe they will change the world.

Saving someone so desperate,
Telling them they're not alone.

Sparking imagination,
Creating magic.

Bringing people together,
Forgetting senseless squabbles.

I want to change someone's world for the better.